


The Next Thing That Happens

by jssangel



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Clothed Sex, F/M, Fingerfucking, Kink/Cliche Challenge, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:05:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jssangel/pseuds/jssangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Livejournal:</p><p>Here is a horrible birthday present for <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-P"></span><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://monanotlisa.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://monanotlisa.livejournal.com/"></a><b>monanotlisa</b>.<br/><br/>
It's not the story she nicely requested (and even paid for with some - ahem - <em>bootleg </em>porn) approximately 1000 years ago.  It's a bit of Weir & Lorne that has been cut out of the crap sequel to <a href="http://jssangel.livejournal.com/10231.html#cutid1">Successful Trade</a> & <a href="http://jssangel.livejournal.com/10521.html#cutid1">You Can't Always Get What You Want</a> that I have been working on.  Cut OUT!  I say (because I know what she dying for is all that senseless drivel I wrote about Simon and I don't want anything to get in the way of that) - but perhaps it's just enough of a porny drabble to say, " Happy Birthday Dear Mona!"<br/><br/><a id="cutid1" name="cutid1"></a><br/><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next Thing That Happens

** The Next Thing That Happens **

The problem is, of course, that Lorne is not much one for drama.  He does better with sublimated longing.

So he just keeps doing his job – which is a surprising amount of tedious paperwork, and an average amount of crossing through the Stargate to planet after planet in a completely new galaxy – and that's fine, just fine as far as adventure and excitement go.  But it leaves his mind too free to dwell on other things.

Elizabeth Weir has never had sex in an elevator, he thinks. She’s never been fucked in an old Otis model, creaking its way up a pre-war building, climbing more stories than it can comfortably take.  Dignity is embedded in her bones.  She’d never go for the thrill of public sex; the limited time between one stop and another.  She’d never want it standing up - a handrail pushing against her hips, mouth wet against his collarbone, tits pressed against his chest...   

Lorne wants to kiss her right now, in the transporter.  He could push her against the wall and push himself into her.  He could hum to Atlantis (who always listens a little) _“go slow”_ and the ride would drag out just enough.  He bets he could make her come (again) on a two minute trip to the top of the spire.  

The transporter is really almost instantaneous.  They’re only alone for a few seconds.  The doors close and he takes a breath.  The doors open and, “Ma’am” he says.  
  
She nods and walks out ahead of him.  He doesn’t look at her ass.

***  
  
Major Lorne has never had sex in an office, she thinks.  He doesn’t know that suits and uniforms have accessories with many uses.  He sits in his chair at briefings and meetings, she takes notes and hears reports.  There is never a hint that his collar could be loose, she could be under the table between his legs, her hands caught in the straps of his flight jacket so that she can use only her mouth to kiss him to suck him to -  
  
Bring him off.  
  
***  
  
Sometimes when they sit across from each other, he watches her mouth and doesn’t listen to her words.  Sometimes she runs her eyes over the breadth of his shoulders so often she can't believe he can't feel it.  
  
They see each other every day – they always did – at meetings, at meals, as he comes through the gate and leaves again, as she watches over the control room.  Sometimes when he is just about to step through the event horizon, squaring his shoulders and readying himself for the plunge into cold water that never actually happens, he thinks he feels her eyes on the back of his neck, brushing along his spine.  
  
But he never turns around.  
  
And she never calls to him.  
  
And the next thing that happens is -  
  
Nothing. 


End file.
